The long-term effects of little-boy sounding?

This morning I find myself pondering what might be the long-term side effects of unceasing exposure to the noises, utterances, dialogue, monologue and sounds that bubble forth constantly from two small boys I know, ages 6 and 3. Last night a committee I co-chair at J's school hosted a guided meditation based on a book about silence and finding the voice within by a Quaker author, Rex Ambler. We did this last year around this time, and I absolutely loved it. Having attended several of these sessions since, I'm always struck by how different my experiences are despite the fact that the meditative prompts are the same. I've felt  invigorated to enervated but witness the entirety of that spectrum in a deeply calm way. Last night I felt as if a thick blanket had settled over me, making it difficult to meditate well (seemingly so), but showing me just how very much I needed and could take advantage of the gift of an hour to focus only on myself.

In any case, 5:49am today brought all back to our norm with Oliver requesting his MIA tool sheet and imploring the sun light to come on while Jack built Legos and later yelled at Ol to "please give me privacy, I'm in the bathroom." And since then T and I have looked at each other, with somewhat wild and desperate eyes, wondering just how many more irritating other-languages, rapping snowmen (you know those drugstore holiday items that sing/dance when you press a button? we get them as gifts and the kids go nuts for them but all three at a time is truly a cacophonous torture), inane arguments and so forth we can stand before 7:30am. Perennial tiredness. Ah, just let me get my latte and a good breakfast in me.

I want to make a shrimp creole this week as well as some sort of braised bean dish. Will keep you posted!